I hit the front doors of the Cherokee Club just after 11 pm. There was a young girl on the stage singing; a pretty brunette with a decent enough voice. I guess she was one of the girls that had been waiting in the wings like Paige and Tiffany had done. I wondered if this dame was prepared to be turned into a prostitute.
I started to walk past the maître d, who said, “And what can I do for you, sir?”
I quietly said, “You can get the hell out of my face before I break your damned spine.”